


Ducks in Winter

by lemonsandstrawberries



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsandstrawberries/pseuds/lemonsandstrawberries
Summary: Steve and Tony have a special domestic ritual of changing the summer duvet for a winter one and Tony's timing of doing that is very bad.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 112





	Ducks in Winter

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a pure domestic fic, inspired by the fact that I loooove my winter duvet. Happy December, everyone!

"Hey, Steve… Steve!"

There was a voice trying to reach him. Steve was in too deep to fully let it through. Just let him be.

"Honey, come on. I need you, Steve."

God, Tony was calling him. His Tony. He needed to push it through. With the highest effort, Steve opened his eyes seeing darkness all around him, before his eyes adjusted, catching Tony's sparkling brown ones peering at him.

"Tony," Steve said quietly, his voice cracking from the interrupted sleep while turned on his back, covers pulled up to his chest. "What's going on?" he rubbed his eyes, taking in the surroundings. Bed. His and Tony's bedroom. Probably 2 am, judging on how dark it was. It was quiet, no sound of the alarm blaring through the rooms, so no emergency. If there was no emergency, why Tony woke him up?

Tony hesitated, well knowing how ridiculous sounded what he was about to say. He curled in himself, bringing his knees closer, not of the actual need to hide, but to make himself look more vulnerable, needing to play this well.

"I am cold," Tony said finally, his voice dropping sadly.

Steve's nose twitched nervously, as he looked at the dark ceiling, before turning on his side to better look at his husband. "Babe, seriously?" Steve asked in a flat tone, interrupted sleep still stinging the corners of his eyes and making his mind sluggish. He saw Tony curled and petite and needing him and it melted the irritated feeling away, replacing it with warm affection. "If you wanted to hug, you could have just roll in closer," he said instead of the rant he wanted to, and opened his arms, inviting Tony in. Instead of the expected cuddle, Tony pushed Steve's hands out of the way, almost as if they were bothering him.

"I know that," Tony's voice came out as an irritated hiss. "Steve. I am cold," Tony seethed, accenting every word as if there was some hidden meaning behind them.

Steve's brain processed the words slowly, pushing aside the wounded feeling of Tony rejecting his embrace. Cold. Cold in the middle of the night. Cold under the covers. 

Covers.

Oooh, covers.

And the irritated feeling was back. "Oh for fuck's sake - you didn't just wake me up to get the winter covers out for you, did you?" Steve asked, voice angry and deep, and it was unfairly cute how Tony's eyes sparkled in humor at the f word. 

Tony just smiled, much resembling the Cheshire's cat smile, especially the moment the cat was vanishing and only his smile remained. Somehow smug, somehow pleased, somehow taunting. Only Tony could smile like that.

"Please?"

Steve turned on his back once more and rubbed his face. "You could get them out on your own, you know," he grunted. Changing the duvet from the light summer one into heavier winter one repeated year after year and while it wasn't expected of Tony, with time he got really great at being domestic after he was given the chance - he always remembered what brand of peanut butter Steve liked while he was sent out to do weekly grocery shopping, he knew all the important dates in their relationship and could make some mean omelets with the most creative fillings that shouldn't work, but did. 

"I can't," Tony said, sounding quite adamant about it but not wanting to get into details. Steve turned his face to look at his husband, getting a stubborn look in return, not matching Steve's confused one, until his face smoothened when he made a connection.

The winter duvet was big and fluffy and needed to be kept somewhere it wouldn't be getting in the way and that place was the highest shelf in the closet. It was practical, but it was also somewhere Tony couldn't reach on his own without using something to make him taller, like a stool or Steve's shoulders. It was hilarious and during the years Steve hid many things out of his husband's reach and Tony still didn't find out about the secret stash of cookies in the kitchen.

"Yeah, you really can't," Steve agreed, just for the sake of them both going back to sleep, aware that this won't end until he changed the duvet. He sat up and walked barefoot on the wooden floor, thinking that floor heating was a great invention.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tony asked, sounding defensive, his eyes following his husband.

"Nothing, nothing," Steve soothed, opening the closet and standing on his toes to reach the highest shelf. He felt the plastic case and pulled it to himself and unzipped it, taking the duvet out, and hitting it with his hand to evenly distribute the feather filling. He grabbed a corner in each hand and fluffed it a few times, just for good measure. In the morning he would search for fresh bedding to put the duvet into, but setting it on top of the summer ones would have to do for the time being. "Ready?"

"Ready!" Tony called back happily, and Steve could imagine his husband spreading in the bed, wanting to be smothered with the warm weight. Something that also happened each year. 

The duvet landed with a soft and heavy sound on top of the bed, and right away there was a quiet, content sigh. The covers were so thick, he couldn't tell anymore where Tony was, his body hidden under the duvet, unlike with summer covers, when the thin material draped over Tony's shape enticingly. Oh well. Bye summer, hello winter. What was important, was that night was saved. Steve walked back to the bed, just to see that his side was already occupied.

"Babe, this is where I sleep," Steve said, not territorial about who slept on which side of the bed, just wanting to go back to bed already.

Tony peaked out from the covers, looking to the back at his husband before he hid again. "It's warmer here," he said, as it should be all the excuse he needed.

Steve could play along. Just entangle his husband in the covers and then roll him back to his side. In the end, it didn't matter. Still, Steve wanted to make a statement on his own, and instead of going around the bed like a reasonable human being, he stepped on the mattress and walked on the bed, hearing Tony squeak in protest at almost being stepped on.

Finally. Steve lowered himself into the mattress and sunk into the softness. His eyes drooped and sweet sleep was taking over him. Except that he felt like sinking and like somehow was very off.

And then he realized why he and Tony should never trade their sides of the bed.

"Jesus," Steve mumbled, trying to make himself more comfortable. "You and your duck butt made a dent in the mattress."

Tony only laughed, hearing his sleepy husband struggle, his muscled body not fitting into the groove Tony's softer one made. Maybe it should be treated as an insult, something about Tony gaining weight for winter, but Tony was too warm and comfortable on Steve's firmer side of the bed. 

"You love my duck butt," Tony argued playfully, wrapped in warmth and softness.

"I do, your butt is one of the reasons, I married you. Well, it takes two spots on the list of reasons why I married you."

Tony laughed, sweet and melodic, enjoying that answer. It deserved a reward.

"Come here."

Steve looked up, seeing Tony's hands, opened and inviting him to come and cuddle to his chest, just like he had done for Tony at the beginning of all this. Steve considered the offer, some mean, sleepy voice at the back of his head telling him, that he should reject it, just to show Tony how it was. It was quickly silenced when he saw Tony's warm, brown eyes and a serene, soft smile that jumped on his face whenever he was looking at Steve. 

Steve fitted himself against his husband's frame, his slightly cold nose landing against Tony's throat. He could feel Tony flinch, but he didn't move away, instead wrapped his arms tighter around Steve, both arms around soldier's broad shoulders and one hand landing on the back of Steve's head and scrubbing affectionally, causing Steve's eyelids to droop down instantly.

"Thanks, baby," Tony whispered, maybe finally feeling a bit sorry for wakening Steve up.

"Don't mention it," Steve nodded against Tony's neck, wrapping their legs together.

"Love you," Tony continued, just to make sure that Steve wasn't mad at him.

Steve yawned. "Love you too, ducky butt," he said in a soft voice, reaching his hand behind Tony and not so softly grabbing the mentioned duck butt, definitely not making his husband squawk indignantly first, before it morphed into a shocked, but happy laugh, that made Steve smile too.

Warm and hidden from the rest of the world, they both fell to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, one of my headcanons is that Steve calls Tony Ducky because of his perky, round butt.


End file.
